


Regrowth

by enemyfrigate



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemyfrigate/pseuds/enemyfrigate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto shows his thorns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrowth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Birthday fic for forest choir.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Birthday+fic+for+forest+choir.).



Alien pollen did not make them do it. To be fair, they did not need any help getting revved up. Or to the point of no return.

Jack stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed a scratched and bruised Owen and Ianto. The erring pair were sat on a memorial bench in the overgrown garden on a once high class estate. Owen looked marginally abashed. Ianto looked downright mutinous.

“What were you doing?” Jack demanded. “We were trying to preserve it, not tear it to pieces in a bar brawl. A garden brawl. It doesn’t matter.”

“Tosh said she could root the remains,“ said Ianto.

“I don’t want to hear from you,” Jack said. “You’re supposed to be the levelheaded one.”

“Hey, I kept saying to watch the plant,” Owen muttered. He ducked his head and looked at the path when Jack turned on him.

Jack opened his mouth to tick him off, but Ianto interrupted him.“I’m tired of being the one on his best behavior. I’m tired of being the good boy,” Ianto said.

“Get this cleaned up. We’ll talk about this later,” Jack said.

“Do it yourself,” said Ianto. He pushed to his feet and stalked deeper into the gardens, toward a small wood.

“You, start raking, And be careful!” Jack pivoted on his heel and went after Ianto. He caught up to his lover in a dense copse of something. It was from earth, it had green leaves, Jack did not care what it was. He needed to get his team functioning again.

He caught Ianto’s arm. “This is not helping,” Jack said.

Ianto jerked his arm away. “I’m tired of being the fucking prefect, Jack. I’m tired of being the tidy one, the one who has to stay on mission, the guy who has no feelings,” Ianto said. “I’m tired of taking Owen’s shit, being expected to talk everyone down, being your fucking mouthpiece. You want me to be responsible for them without giving me any power in return. Not that it matters. You could make me King Torchwood and they‘d do whatever the fuck they want. Then I‘d still get blamed.”

Ianto looked off into the trees. “And I’m tired of wearing this fucking suit.” He pulled off his suit coat and tossed it onto the ground, then his tie, and finally the white dress shirt, rumpled, hit the mulch.

“Ianto, I don’t have time for this” Jack said. “Can we talk about this later?”

“I’m done talking, Jack. It does no good,” Ianto said, calm as if he had come to the other side of a big decision.

“Which means what? Are you…staying?”

“It means this,” said Ianto. He shoved Jack against a tree and his tongue down his throat.

This was so much better than talking, Jack thought.

Ianto shoved Jack harder into the tree when Jack tried to take over direction and bit his neck, hard.

Jack made an undignified noise and tipped his head back against the tree. He could go with this. Soon, Jack found himself on the ground, on his hands and knees in the leaf litter, trousers pulled down around his calves and Ianto’s strong hands on his hips putting him where he wanted him.

Ianto retrieved the hated jacket long enough to find lube and rubbers, then tossed it back onto the ground. A stick ground into Jack’s knee and thorns had attached themselves to his palm, but he knew better than to move, didn’t want to move, holding himself poised for Ianto to get on with it.

Ianto slammed his cock into him, no warning but the stronger grip on his hips and the shift of his shadow where it extended over Jack.

Jack arched back into Ianto’s cock, ‘til ass met pelvis, and Ianto hammered into him in return.

It was a wilder fuck than any they had yet shared, despite all they had done, all the toys they had used or created or annexed, all the places they had come together. Wilder and stranger, because there was no role behind this, just a Ianto Jack had never seen before. Somehow, he could see this Ianto sneaking Lisa into Torchwood Three, this Ianto scheming his way into their good graces. This Ianto was the one in the file, the petty thief and opportunist who had stumbled into a new persona at Torchwood One.

Perhaps Ianto had been conning them all, all this time, with the perfect servant and gentleman’s act.

Jack would have to explore that thought later, because right now he was giving himself up to the strong, almost cruel hands that held him in place, tormented his sensitive nipples and the fine skin of his flank. Those hands, soft as befitted a man who built nothing, handled guns rarely, that were never raised in anger, stripped his cock cruelly until Jack lost his rhythm, hips stuttering between Ianto’s plunging cock and the need to pursue his own pleasure.

As he came, quiet as he could because sound carried so in the woods, Jack’s vision filled with Ianto’s crumpled jacket, discarded carelessly on the leaf litter, one pearly droplet of his own seed reaching the outstretched cuff.

Jack bit his lip, over sensitized, and braced himself for Ianto to finish. Ianto grunted and shoved in one last time. A weight across his back and sharp teeth at his ear was new. Ianto had always been a considerate lover who made a habit of catching himself back from falling onto his partner. Jack wondered what else had changed in his young man.

They tidied up without comment and walked back to the others, Ianto with coat and tie bunched in his fist, his shirt gaping open over a thin white tee-shirt.

Owen and Tosh waited in the SUV. They’d gathered the alien plant fragments into a container, and erased all traces of its growth in the garden. Tosh looked resigned and Owen looked as ready to forget all this as Jack felt.

The ride back to the Hub was fairly subdued, as was the rest of the workday. Ianto left with the rest at 7 p.m., and Jack was relieved. His relationship sense said they needed to talk. His personal Ianto sense said they’d communicated all they needed to in the wood.

Tomorrow would tell the result.

The next morning, Ianto arrived wearing a worn leather jacket that he’d obviously had for years, jeans nearly white along the seams, they were so old and soft, and a faded Pixies tee-shirt, plus that necklace he'd worn the first few times he and Jack had met.

He looked delicious.

Ianto made himself coffee, and one for Jack, but left the others to their own devices. He kissed Jack good morning in front of Tosh. He called the local paper and placed an ad for a tourist office attendant.

Question answered, Jack thought.


End file.
